


I've Tended a Thousand Wounds (Never Quite Like This)

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:10:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pure PWP Based on These Two Gifs-</p><p> </p><p>  <img/><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Tended a Thousand Wounds (Never Quite Like This)

Sam stood there; immobile and knowing he should look away, shift his gaze to anything but Dean but the sight was slowly becoming intoxicating. What began as a brother’s concern was rapidly becoming something else, something more. He shouldn’t be aroused, shouldn’t and needed to find his way back, back to wanting to tilt Dean’s head, examine the cut, check to see if it was superficial but he couldn’t all he could do was stare. Watch as Dean unclenched his fist and brought his hand to his mouth, brushed it back and forth across his bloodied lips and painted a streak of crimson across the back of his hand. He expected it to end there, for Dean to spit the blood from his mouth, spatter the ground with its foulness but instead Dean raised his hand once more, slow, his forefinger slipping past his swollen bottom lip as he tasted, not hesitant, not Dean, never even flinched as he sucked the blood clean from his skin.

Concern was the farthest thing from Sam’s mind as he sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth, imagined it was Dean’s wondered what it would taste like now, coated red with blood, but not demon blood, not this time, this wasn’t about power, addiction or being more than a foot soldier in a growing war this was want, raw, unabashed want, something even war couldn’t touch and not for the first time. He’d been fighting this feeling for months, thinking he was winning, ahead until now, this moment, the sight, even the smell of copper which should bring with it that once new but now familiar feeling of disgust. Should make him turn his head at the memory, but this was different, more because this was Dean and trust, togetherness, and need but not the need he once knew, the craving, this was something new, changing, growing and he could smell it in the copper tang that he so wanted to taste. 

And he wasn’t sure he could trust Dean with this.

Sam stepped forward, just an inch and stared, transfixed as Dean eased his hand away from his mouth, and just enough that Sam could see the ruby red stain on Dean’s bottom lip, the last vestiges of blood that lingered. Now was the time to step back, to shift his gaze before it was too late but Dean lifted his head, stared back at Sam almost without seeing, so lost in the moment before the headiness cleared and he narrowed his eyes, suspicion present in his glare as he took in Sam’s closeness, the accusation dying on his parted lips as he recognised Sam’s look for what it was.

Lust, the blood yes, but not just anybody’s not that, not now, not ever again but Dean’s, the smell of him, more than just the surface, deeper, the very essence of Dean himself. Dean’s blood, on Dean’s skin, his lips, just a hint; no longer crimson but enough that he could still taste it if he dared. If he could just take that final step and fuck if Dean didn’t stand his ground, tilt his head back, almost a dare and that was all it took and Sam was there, right in Dean’s space, just a breath, one, and another just to breathe Dean in for a brief instant, to get the merest hint of what Dean alone had tasted. No time to savour the moment as need washed over him and he took what he wanted. Sam grazed his teeth across Dean’s bottom lip, just a touch, tested but Dean didn’t pull back, instead Sam felt himself pulled forward that final inch as Dean slid his hand inside the front of Sam’s jeans, gripped and tugged, hard and fast. 

“Hell, yes.” Dean said, loud, sure, between short bursts of shared breath, not a trace of doubt as he lifted up into the kiss, took control as if he’d wanted it just as much. His tongue pushed past Sam’s lips and it was Dean’s turn to taste and Sam held on, grabbed Dean’s leather jacket and matched him as he opened his mouth to let Dean in. Almost desperate, heat and want and all the things he daren’t yet say.

And then Sam was taking that step back but he wasn’t alone as Dean pushed forward, matched him stride for stride as Sam found himself forced backward against the wall, almost painful as his shoulder connected, chafed against brick.

“Dean, wait…”

“You think too much Sam.” Dean mouthed his way along Sam’s jaw, licked a path up his chin at the same time as he freed the button on Sam’s jeans. So close that Sam could smell the copper on his breath, see the faint smudge of red that lingered on his bottom lip and for once he didn’t argue but he didn’t surrender either. He grabbed roughly to Dean’s jacket, stepped into the space between Dean’s thighs and hauled him up, kissed him once, hard before he reversed their position, spun Dean around and heard the thud as Dean's entire body made contact with the wall behind him and Sam paused for a second as Dean titled his head back, his voice rough sounding, a moan that was part pain, part pleasure.

“Go on Sam, you know you want to.”

And he did, wanted to ease the ache that was building in his balls, surrender to what Dean was offering, demanding.

“I swear Sam, if you stop now.”

“Shut up Dean. Just shut up and don’t move.” Sam tried to slow his breathing, to gain control, all the reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this clamouring to the forefront of his brain and just one reason why he should, because this was Dean, this was want and now and hard and fast and because he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to and if he was honest with himself, he really didn’t want to, he just wanted. He braced his hand against the wall beside Dean’s head, his other hand tugged Dean’s belt loose, felt buttons give as he pushed denim aside and slid his hand down inside Dean’s shorts and felt heat, and hardness, thumb massaging where ridge met shaft.

“Dean?” That last final chance to step back.

“Just do it Sam.” 

Sam plunged his tongue inside Dean’s mouth, darted in brief exploration, and tasted, once, that first real taste, strange, masculine with the faintest hint of iron. Sam groaned as his own cock swelled, pushed against the zipper of his jeans to the point of pain. Delved deeper this time to curl his tongue around Dean’s before he withdrew, took in a much needed breath and trailed his mouth across the rough skin of Dean’s jaw, down his throat, tugged the short strands of Dean’s hair to gain better access, until he could feel the vibration of Dean’s need hammer wildly against his tongue. Heard Dean groan, low and deep just like he’d imagined he would and felt Dean tilt his hips, Dean’s cock hard and wet against Sam’s palm and it was all Sam could do not to come. He stepped back, just a fraction, resisted as Dean slid his fingers in to the length of Sam’s hair, tightened his hold and tried to drag Sam back.

“Wait, just Wait.”

Sam tried to hold himself still, to gather the control that was rapidly slipping away and eased his hand free of Dean’s jeans, reached for the waistband and inched them down past Dean’s hips. Fingers sure as he yanked down the zipper on his own and did the same, freed his cock, took a breath as cold air met hard heat and felt Dean’s hands circle his hips, fingers digging hard into muscle before they eased around and down to squeeze and release Sam’s ass cheeks.

“I just need to breathe,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

“What you need is this.” Dean grinned, and Sam felt himself pulled rough against Dean’s hard cock as Dean kneaded his ass with the heel of his hand and rocked their hips together and this time Sam did surrender. He lowered his head, tongue invaded, seeking Dean’s, he sucked and pulled on Dean’s tongue, brought it into the warmth of his own mouth and tasted Dean’s groan and thrust his hips forward in time with Dean’s. Slow at first, as he eased away from Dean’s mouth to see, watch and savour the feel of his brother like this, lost, given over to the same want that Sam had thought was his alone and he relished it. The sight of Dean with his head thrown back, eyes closed, bottom lip caught between his teeth and knew there was no going back and truth be told Sam didn’t want to, not now, not ever. It wasn’t just that he wanted, he did, he really did but he could fulfil the urge on his own if needed, and he had, many times, less so with an occasional hook up, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough because what Sam wanted was Dean. 

Sam pushed his hand down between their bodies, fingers finding easy passage against the sweat that was already beading on heated skin and wrapped one large hand around Dean’s cock. Felt Dean’s hand eager for purchase against his own hardness as he fisted Dean’s length, hard, fast, his hand making a twisting motion on each downward stroke and felt his balls tighten, and begin that oh so familiar ache. His cock twitched as Dean matched his pace and heard Dean’s head connect hard with the wall behind him, as Sam slid his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, pressing down against the slit.

“Fuck, Sam.”

“Later, Dean that’s a promise,” Sam breathed. He tightened his fist around Dean, fisted harder, once, twice, faster, tightened, relaxed, jacked his own hips forward, and back, wetness easing the friction, again, and again and swallowed against none existent spit, mouth dry from each ragged breath. “Right now I need to…I need you to…” 

 

“Sam?” Quiet, urgent, inflection saying so much more than just his name, need yes but trust, loyalty, now and something Dean never quite put into words but it was there if you listened, when he said the one word that said everything Dean never did, that one, solitary word that said yes, for you, yes and anything possibly even forever. 

Sam.

The sound was Sam’s undoing, he opened his eyes, looked down at Dean’s hand wrapped tight around his cock, Dean’s ring chafing on every upstroke and it should of hurt but it felt so good, hard and strong, not soft and hesitant like Sam was used to. No breathy sighs or feminine moans, but deep, guttural grunts, harsh deeps breaths, hot and heavy against his skin, just so good almost as good as the warm wetness that spilled over Sam’s fist as Dean grunted, jerked forward, then back. Sam followed the movement, shoved them both hard against the wall, buried his head in the crook of Dean’s neck, grazed his teeth against Dean’s pulse point and thrust hard against Dean’s hip, the slick heat of near release coating Dean’s skin. He needed release, from this; from the gnawing ache that kept him awake at night, yes he wanted, wanted this. Wanted the feel of Dean’s hands, the feel of Dean against him, Dean’s taste in his mouth, needed to hear Dean beg, plead for the same thing.

“Come on, Sammy.” 

Almost, just…

Dean’s hands dug into his ass cheeks, massaged them hard as he brought Sam closer, closer to Dean closer to the edge and the ache in his balls began to build, his cock jerked against Dean’s hip as he cried out, a shout that was muffled against Dean’s shoulder. He stilled against Dean, turned his head and tried to breathe through the intensity as his orgasm hit him, hard, just enough energy to thrust forward one last time. 

Sam was the first to move, he lifted his head, eyes hooded as he took in Dean’s mouth, lips swollen, the bruise just beneath Dean’s jaw line and felt the sting of stubble burn that had until that moment gone unnoticed and shifted his gaze, just to the left of Dean’s shoulder.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare, Sam.”

Dean reached out, up and grabbed Sam’s chin, dragged him back and claimed his mouth, this time slow, unhurried, twisted his fingers in Sam’s hair, brushed down his neck to tangle in the fine hairs at Sam’s nape and held him close until Sam felt himself relax. He held onto Dean, just a beat until Dean pulled back, rested his forehead against Sam’s.

“You, with me, Sam? Are we good?”

“Yeah, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Dean, I want you to know that this wasn’t just about the,” Sam began.

“Later,” Dean said. He stepped out of his jeans, shrugged free of his jacket and reached for the hem of his shirt.

“You actually want to talk about this?” Sam asked.

“What? No. Hell, no. You promised me, later. It’s later now get naked, bitch.”


End file.
